The Meaning of Life
by Sultar
Summary: Well, these days really everyone is writing antiMary Sues, so I thought that I'd experimentally write a much hated MS story. It will of course be written to the best of my ability, and now we shall see...


Disclaimer: I don't own anything here, except for Alice, and even then not her name which is frightfully common.

I don't approve of badly written Mary-Sues, but I also don't agree that the title of a Mary Sue is necessarily a bad thing.

Chapter One

The darkness was all-engulfing. It consumed her, little blackling tendrils slipping into her sight, into her hearing, into the very breath she inhaled and everything she was. Time slipped by with no or little meaning, and even if she had wanted to, there was no way of seperating between hour and day. It was simply non-existent.

And yet it was comforting –the darkness, and demanded no fear from her. Inside the void, she felt _shielded_ from fear. She felt, in fact, shielded from all emotion.

And for the longest time, she need not think.

For the longest time, she need not feel. And without feeling, she need not fall.

A world without fear, without pain and anger… She was nothing; she was everything. She saw little; she saw all. She simply… was. How many people dream of simply _being_! She had reached that dream, floating through blankness without the demands of life. Had months past? Or years? Or merely days, or even hours strung out to match millenniums? It mattered not; very little mattered now.

And then, suddenly:

_Who am I?_

A mere niggling, quickly consumed by darkness. And then once again the peace, as she was drawn back towards its realm.

And then, again-

_Who am I?_

_What am I doing here?_

_…_

_Who am I?_

The dark began to reluctantly recede, its offered tranquility slowly evaporating. She reached for it, towards it, grasping for its safety. _No! Stay!_ But it did not stay, and thoughts poured through the cracks and spaces it left behind.

_Who am I?_

_**Who am I?**_

Light grew just beyond sight, and steady beeping replaced the quiet common now to her, steadily increasing in its volume. She tried to block out its noise, its annoyance. _Enough! Leave me be!_ It grew, however, and with it coaxed a low baritone that rang of familiarity from the recesses of clarity. _Who is he?_ Slowly, awareness brought the reluctant knowledge that her rest was over.

And then, finally-

_Alice._

Lashes parted to reveal blaring light, the glaring whiteness of hospital paint. Painfully loud came the incessant beeping of machines. Cold, so very cold, came the touch of sheet over skin. And yet again-

_My name is Alice._

"Alice!"

The baritone drew her attention to the man by her bed. He was auburn-haired, with hazel-yellow eyes. Her brother, declared her groggy memory.

"Not so loud… I can hear… very well." Words rolled, foreign, from chapped lips, and her tongue felt dry and swollen from disuse.

"You're awake!" And then, louder, "_She's awake!_"

Slowly, cautiously, she raised her head from the hospital pillow. There was no one but her brother. Why?

"How long… gone?" Comprehension still came thick through grogginess.

"Are you kidding? You've been in a coma for six years! Mom and Dad are at home. Jo's moved to Switzerland –she's married, you kno…"

_Six years_. Suddenly memories came flooding back to her. The crash of hoof on solid wood, the whirl of green against brown, against the over-bright blue of sky and gleaming red of horse. The thud of flesh on ground. The sensation of plummeting, plummeting, as she neared the ditch.

"Six years," she croaked. More memories tore through her mind, unbidden and unexpected.

"Yes, sis. You've been gone for six years."

"Gone?" Harsh croaked the laugh from deep in her throat, "Oh, oh no. No, George. I haven't been gone.

"I've been everywhere."

The touch of finger on whitened fur. _We're late, late, __**late!**_ Armies waiting, glaring sun raking harshly on metal helm. The creep, creep, creep of padded feet, the sound of knife sliding from sheath. _Slow, now. Patience is key…_ So many memories!

"I've been everywhere," now her voice was but a mere whisper, "I've seen… everything.

"And I almost didn't make it back."

"…Alice?" Uncertainty colored her brother's voice, even as the door swung open to reveal a white-coated coated doctor rushing to her side. She lifted a hand to stay his approach.

"I am fine, thank you."

"Ms Vangol, you have woken up from a six year coma! Surely at least some preliminary checks are in order!" The port-bellied, five-foot tall doctor bustled.

_And he bustled through all the luxury that was his, fingering the bristled red of hanging carpents, swaddling on his marbled richness, admiring the gold embroidered into his kingly robe. But wait! There, behind the curtain! The silent pad of a-_

_Enough!_

Alice shook herself out of the swirl of memory.

"I assure you, doctor…" the word "Thompson" sprung from his glistening nametag, "Doctor Thompson, I am quite all right."

"_I_ can assu-"

"Where _have_ you been, Alice?" Her brother interrupted, quieting the doctor with a glare.

She sighed softly.

"It is a long story. You may listen, or not; it is not much my concern.

"I have been to find the meaning of life."


End file.
